


Invisible, Not Only To Myself

by Cloudbustings



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: (GONE WRONG) (GONE SAD) (GONE CUDDLY), Adult reddie in the second chapter, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friendship, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PRETENDING MY FRIEND IS INVISIBLE PRANK, Phobias, Tags May Update, fear of being invisible, fear of going missing, very subtle/barely there romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22936081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudbustings/pseuds/Cloudbustings
Summary: It was just a joke.It was only supposed to be a stupid joke.OrThe Losers play a prank on Richie and have to fix things when their old Trashmouth takes their joke the wrong way.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, richie tozier/eddie kaspbrak/stanley uris
Comments: 17
Kudos: 191





	1. 7/12/89

**Author's Note:**

> Beverly’s stomach issues are hinted at but basically it’s just IBS, which affects all genders but a lot of women have it and it’s really tough to deal with and not easy at all to talk about. 🖕🏽 Bill shut your mouth challenge (Just kidding. I love him.)

It was just a joke.

It was only supposed to be a stupid joke.

Just last month they did it to Bill. Partly out of spite because he made a callous pass about Beverly spending too much time in the bathroom and taking too many trips despite the fact that they all know she has some kind of digestion issue she’s too embarrassed to fully explain. 

It was funny back then, it should have been funny this time. The look on Bill’s face was priceless—-confusion, morphing into frustration, ending in a heaving sigh. He took it with grace and sat down in the hammock of the clubhouse with a heaving sigh. They all went home at five and that’s when they broke down the imaginary barrier around Bill.

_ One month ago… _

Beverly whispered something into Richie’s ear, causing him to laugh. He let silence fall for a second as Beverly fell into step behind him. Then he cried out in fear like a small dog. Everyone looked at him in alarm, including Bill, who he pointed at in faux shock. 

“Bill! Where did  _ you  _ come from? We thought you left the clubhouse!” he practically yelled. Bill rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, what the heck? How’d you disappear like that?” Ben piped up. Bill shot him a glare.

“You guys knew I was there. Don’t lie. I literally stole Eddie’s flip flop. Even  _ if  _ he pretended like Richie stole it.” said Bill.

“Yeah...we knew you were there.” Richie admitted. “Serves you right though! For that shit you said to Bevvie earlier.” At this, Bill’s expression softened and he turned apologetic eyes on Beverly.

“Hey, Bev...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude about that stuff.” he apologised. Eddie blew a raspberry at him and Beverly skipped forward so she could flick his forehead.

“It’s okay Big Bill. Just don’t do it again.” she smiled, and he returned it tentatively. 

It was fine. They had all laughed about it afterwards. Even Bill. So why did it backfire so catastrophically the next time they did it? Probably because they did it to  _ Richie,  _ and Richie is a whole other ballpark compared to Bill.

_ One month after the first prank… _

The wooden planks of the ladder creak under Eddie’s weight as he lowers himself down carefully into the clubhouse. Beverly is laying in the hammock with her eyes shut, Ben is sitting with his back against the same support beam behind Beverly’s head that the hammock is tied to, Stan is curled up against Mike and reading the book that’s in Mike’s hands over his shoulder, and Bill is lying on his back on a bench with Stan’s (repaired) paddle ball in hand as he bounces it at the ceiling. They all have their shower caps on.

“What’s up, A-holes?!” Eddie greets his friends with a smile. They all send him ‘hello’s and ‘hey jerkwad’s back. Beverly opens one eye and shoots him a warm, loving smile, and it feels like she’s an older sister. Ben also smiles at him, but it’s wide eyed and cheery, brotherly in the way his chubby cheeks bunch up adorably because of his grin.

Predictably, Stan asks “Have you seen Richie?” and Eddie shakes his head at him as he wraps a shower cap around his short brown waves. “I didn’t go to his house on my way here. He  _ could _ be there. Guess he’s just late.” he shrugs.

“He does  _ know  _ we’re hanging out today, right?” asks Stan. 

“Yeah. I mean we said we would, and he was there when we talked about it.” reasoned Eddie, taking a seat on the other side of Mike and resting his head on Mike’s shoulder. Mike shoots him one of those toothy smiles that are his trademark, and Eddie giggles with his mouth closed.

“I think we should pretend he’s invisible when he gets here.” says Stan indignantly. “Like we did with Bill.” Beverly laughs and opens her eyes fully to look at Stan.

“That’ll drive him wild, for sure.” she snickers. 

“‘C’mon guys!’” mimics Mike in a distraught and pretty impressive imitation of Richie’s voice. “‘Why aren’t you guys laughing at my fart joke!’” he cries, and they all burst out laughing. Until they hear footsteps outside the clubhouse entrance. Suddenly all their eyes are transfixed on the open hatch. Stan places a finger over his lips and hisses for them all to be quiet.

A pair of sneakers hop down each step of the ladder, followed by skinny, milk white legs in a pair of loose grey shorts. By some miracle he doesn’t fall down by the time Richie gets to the bottom and whips around to face his friends with a smile, expecting them to be looking back at him. Or at least one of them. But they don’t seem to have noticed he’s here. Oh well…

“Hey!” he shouts out loud. No one looks up. An amused smile grows on his face and he raises one brow, surveying his friend’s bored faces. 

“So you’re all gonna ignore me, huh? Alright, alright. We can do that.” he says slyly with his hands shoved into his pockets. Eddie lifts his head from Mike’s shoulder and looks just behind Richie’s head without recognition in his eyes. 

“Hey...did you guys hear something?” he asks quietly. The other Losers give him negative nods and shrugs to say that they didn’t hear anything. The smile on Richie’s face slips and falls completely. His dark brows knit in confusion, and he approaches Beverly on the hammock. 

“Red? Hello?” he asks, waving a hand in front of her unresponsive face. “Helloooo? Can you hear me?” he tries again, a little more desperate. When he fails to rouse her, or any of the other losers, Richie feels panic rise and bubble inside his stomach until he’s fighting hot tears in the corners of his eyes. The moment he can’t even get  _ Eddie _ to respond, Richie goes completely silent. Rigid, even—and then he turns around and scrambles out of the clubhouse. The other Losers watch him go with genuine surprise, which then morphs into a worrisome silence.

Each Loser exchanges concerned glances with one another. Eddie stands up with his fists curled into balls.

“I’m gonna go check on him.” he says, determined. 

“M-me too!” stammers Stan, uncharacteristically shaken and scrambling to his feet to follow Eddie up the ladder. Beverly watches them go and silently follows, tailed by Mike, Bill, and Ben.

Eddie and Stan are already further up the path, scanning the woods for signs of Richie and where he escaped to. Judging by the displaced heaps of dirt and the footsteps that weren’t there before they arrived, Richie has run back to his house. 

The Losers all reach the street Richie’s house is on and take a moment to breath. But Stan and Eddie go running off to the old white home that’s second to first on the block. The one with a brown fence with weeds shooting up around each post, and a dusty swinging seat with colourful cushions on it.

Eddie raps his fist hard and fast on the front door. It takes a moment—one that Eddie spends bouncing on his feet while Stan nervously wrings his hands—but eventually the door swings open and they’re greeted by a short woman with a slender, mature face, and familiar warm brown eyes. She has long black curls and a dusting of freckles across her nose just like her son. 

She looks worried for a second, but her expression softens slightly when she sees the gaggle of preteens forming at her doorstep.

“Oh, hello!” Maggie Tozier greets the group. “Let me guess. You’re all here for Richie.” she smiles. Eddie nods furiously in response.

“Yeah. We think he might’ve ran inside here a little bit ago. Can we see him?” he asks, but it’s more like a thinly veiled demand.  _ ‘Hand over the goods.’  _ it sounds like. Maggie laughs quietly and nods, and then she steps aside, allowing the teens to flood into the Tozier household.

“He came bursting into here like a bat out of hell a few minutes ago. I tried to ask him what happened but he wouldn’t stop to talk.” she says as she leads them up the stairs like a mother goose leading her gooselings. She stopped at the top and looked back at them with a wary look in her eyes. “I think he’s  _ really _ upset about something. He won’t let me in his room, and it’s frighteningly quiet in there. It’s  _ never  _ quiet.” she grimaces, and then looks at the door contemplatively. “Except for when he doesn’t want to be heard.”

Maggie steps aside and lets Eddie try the door, but it’s locked. Eddie violently jiggles the door some more out of frustration.

“Go away!!” Richie angrily shouts from the other side of the door. They all look taken back.

“Let us in, Richie!” calls Stan.

“No!!” Richie cries indignantly, and then there comes a loud thud against the door that startles them all. 

“Young man!” Maggie fumes with her arms crossed, standing right up to the door. “That is  _ not  _ how I raised my son to talk to his friends! And how  _ dare  _ you throw something at the door! You have until the count of three to open that door and let me in or  _ else!” _

“One...!!”

“Two…!!”

“Th-“ she trails off as the door opens slightly. Maggie slips inside and shuts the door behind her. The Losers wait, listening to the sound of Maggie and Richie talking inside until there is silence. They all look at eachother with concerned and confused expressions, but say nothing. And then the door opens and Maggie calls for Eddie to come inside.

“Can I come in, too?” pleads Stan. There is a quiet murmur inside, and Maggie tells him that he has permission. He and Eddie exchange nervous glances and enter the bedroom.

Neither Stan nor Eddie knew what to expect when they walked into the room (besides the shoe on the floor in front of the door that they step over), but Richie wrapped up in his mother’s embrace, sitting in her lap on his bed and hiding his face in her hair, was not what they in mind. Maggie rubs his back in circles and meets their confused eyes with her own saddened ones. The way a mother gets when her child is hurt. Maggie pats the space beside her on the bed and scoots up for Eddie and Stan to sit.

“Alright.” says Maggie. She unwraps herself from Richie and reluctantly pries him off of her, rising to stand in front of him. She ruffles his curls one last time before she turns to the other boys with a furrow in her brows. The look in her eyes now is disappointed, and that stabs both Eddie and Stan right in the gut. “I’m going to leave, and I want you two to have a talk with Richie. While you three talk it out I’m going to have a chat with the rest of your friends.” says Maggie.

“But I want to talk to you two as well afterwards, okay?” she asks expectantly, and the two boys nod their heads in understanding. When she leaves the room they turn to look at Richie. Stan gets up and transfers to the side to sit. Cautiously, he places a hand on Richie’s shoulder, but it doesn’t make him look up from his lap.

“...Richie?” Stan says quietly. “We’re sorry for ignoring you in the Clubhouse…”

Richie is silent. Suddenly Eddie is shaking his inhaler loudly, and Stan shoots him a venomous glare, which Eddie refutes with his own defiant shrug and a deep puff. When Stan looks back at Richie he finds that he’s watching Eddie tuck his inhaler away. His lips are pursed like he wants to say something. Then Eddie looks at him again, and his gaze falls back to his lap—where his fists are curled and shaking.

There comes a few almost inaudible wet sniffles. Richie’s shoulders shake like he’s laughing. Like any moment now he’ll look up with a bright smile and exclaim ‘Gotcha!’ But he doesn’t, and he’s white knuckling it now, and the sound is getting louder. Stan and Eddie realise, with a cold jolt of shock, that Richie is crying. 

Stan’s reaction to wrap his arms around Richie is delayed. Eddie is reluctant to do it, but when he finally does he curls around Richie tightly from the other side and buries his face in his best friend’s neck. The sobs grow louder, and Richie holds on to Eddie’s forearm with one shaking hand. He wipes his leaking eyes with the other. Grossed out by the snot (and also unable to bear seeing the shiny tear tracks under Richie’s red eyes), Stan removes his glasses from his face and pulls out a packet of tissues from a pocket in his cargo shorts.

Richie accepts the tissue and wipes underneath his eyes. Then he uses another clean one to wipe his running nose. Stan avoids looking at him out of guilt, and catches Eddie staring miserably at Richie instead with his head on his trembling shoulder.

“I-hI’m s-suh-sorry.” stammers Richie. “I-h-hI d-d’dn’t muh-mean to, to s-suh-start cry’ng. I luh-look l-like a whuh- _ whale _ when I d-do that…”

“No no no no,  _ don’t apologise Richie.”  _ Stan says firmly. 

“Yeah! And you don’t get to call yourself a whale, that’s my job!” cries Eddie. Stan glares at him again and Eddie juts his head out at him defensively. “What? He never does it right because  _ he means it _ , and I  _ don’t!” _

Stan opens his mouth to retort but is cut off by the glorious sound of Richie’s quiet laughter. Richie wipes his eyes again until they’re dry and puts his glasses back on, still laughing a little. When his laughter dies down he sighs and flops is head down against Stan’s shoulder. All three of them stay like that for a moment. Silent. Still. Holding each other.

“Wanna tell us what happened?” Stan asks him quietly. Richie opens an eye and glares up at him, one soot black eyebrow poised up high. The heat of his glare is dampened by how red and puffy his eyes are. He looks tired and vulnerable in a way that he never does around his friends.

“What do you  _ think  _ happened, genius? I didn’t appreciate your whole ‘pretend Richie doesn’t exist’ game.”

“But you were there with us when we did the exact same thing to Bill. You knew it was just a joke then, why wouldn’t it be the same now?” Eddie asks out of confusion. The glare on Richie’s face is wiped clean off and he looks nervous and pensive. He chews his lower lip and looks at the ground.

“Do you guys remember when I found that missing poster in the house on Neibolt street?” he quietly asks in a tone so soft it’s almost inaudible. The juxtaposition between his usual behaviour and...this...is unsettling to say the least. Eddie and Stan nod and hum their mutual assent. Richie heaves a sigh and circles one long noodle arm around Stan’s back while shoving his face deeper into his neck. Being tangled like this makes it look like they’re two bamboo rods, and Richie is a growing tomato plant relying on their support to stay upright no matter what against rain or sleet or storm.

“That was one of the scariest moments of my life.” he admitted. “I could be threatened by a giant, bloodthirsty alien clown, or almost get chopped in two by a statue taller than any building in this town...but the thought of going missing…” he trails off with a shaky breath. The other two take a moment to absorb this. After a few beats of silence Richie slaps his hands over his eyes and falls backwards on his bed. The mattress bounces under his weight.

“Hhhaaaahanyways-“ he says loudly. The hands over his eyes rub them furiously and then slide up his face to run through his hair, pushing back his black bangs. “I don’t like feeling invisible. Period.” Richie says with finality that he can only deliver looking at the ceiling to ease the unsteadiness of his own vulnerability. “Please don’t do it again?” he pleads. Like the good friends they are, Eddie and Stanley agree with overwhelming enthusiasm. A wave of gratitude and affection rises and crests at a great height inside of Richie, intense enough that he has to swallow it back down and close his eyes before it crashes over him and he does something stupid like...like...tell them he loves them more than life itself.

“Should we go downstairs?” asks Stan.

“Yeah.” Richie agrees with a happy smile on his face as he rises and sits up on the bed instead of lying down. 

When they see the others again, they’re all drinking cups of cold, sweet iced tea, straight from the pitcher. They don’t keep the store bought kind. Maggie makes it all herself. They all look happy for a bunch of preteens who definitely just got a stern talking too. Collectively they stop talking and watch Richie cautiously, like he’ll chuck a fast ball at the window and break it (or maybe worse. Maybe he’ll start crying again) when they see him appear from behind Stan and Eddie under the living room arch. He doesn’t do any of that stuff though. Only flashes them a nervous smile, and it makes them all visibly loosen up and brighten out of relief.

Beverly jumps to her feet and dashes over to Richie so she can throw her long white arms around him. She’s taller than him, and her body engulfs his own slighter body in their embrace, but after he gets over his initial bug eyed shock he smiles as bright as the sun and squeezes her right back with all his strength.

“I’m  _ so,  _ so sorry, Richie.” she whispers into the crook of his neck. Richie feels another pair of warm, dark arms encircle him and Beverly and a chest at his back and he turns his head and shoots Mike a quick, grateful smile before he rests his cheek against Beverly’s head and smiles. 

“It’s okay.” he says serenely. Bill joins the hug and meets his eyes up close, gaze briefly flickering to find confidence in Mike’s encouraging smile. 

“We’re still sorry, though. Even if you’re okay now.” Bill insists. It is now that Richie realizes that Eddie has joined in with an aggressively loving and firm miniature bear hug, and Ben looks to be on the verge of tears, struggling to speak.

“You-you  _ guys-“  _ cries Ben. He runs into the group full speed, and though he doesn’t break them apart when he spreads his arms and pulls them in, he does almost topple them. The guy could easily be a linebacker come High School. The room is filled with the sound of Ben’s emotional sniffles and the quiet, cheerful giggles of the group.

Maggie Tozier watches from the couch with a glass of her own iced tea held up to her smiling lips, taking a slow sip. Her heart fills with joy to see her son being comforted by all of his friends. All...except one. Her gaze flickers to the side and she frowns at the thin boy. Stanley. He watches them without making a move to join in...but something in his troubled, pensive face and wanting eyes tells her that he’s being held back by something. She notices his hands twitch upwards at his sides. 

Maggie swallows the cold beverage and rises to her feet. Stanley is so caught up in whatever battle is going on inside his brain that he doesn’t notice her until she’s sidling up behind him and pushing him into the group by the shoulders.

“Go on.” she says quietly. “Go ahead.”

Stanley stumbles and looks over his shoulder at her with deeply furrowed brows and, for so long he has appeared to her like the most mature one in their group. At times she almost forgets that he’s the same age as her son. But when he looks up at her with wide brown eyes that are filled with uncertainty...she sees him for what he is. Just a young boy. Maggie smiles at him and nods at the group. “Your friends are waiting.” she tells him.

Stanley turns his head and slowly, awkwardly approaches his tangled friends. His arms are slow and uncertain in their mission to find purchase around Mike and Beverly where they hold Richie to their core, like the nucleus of a cell. His fingers awkwardly find a place to stay and lightly rest there, just hovering over the fabric on the back Bev’s overalls and Mike’s worn, bloody orange Henley.

“I…I…” Stan begins. “I’m sorry, Richie. I said we should pretend you’re invisible. I never meant to hurt you-“ 

“We all agreed to do it.” says Mike.

“But I brought it up.” insists Stan, visibly distressed. 

“We did it before, though. You couldn’t have known Richie wouldn’t be okay with it.” says Mike with a vehemence that says he really believes it, and Stanley feels his large hand drag him in deeper into the hug until he’s squished against his friends with no escape, especially once Beverly snakes her arm around his waist too, keeping him in place.

Stan meets Richie’s eyes and waits for...for what? For confirmation that he acted like a dick and this wouldn’t have happened—Richie wouldn’t have been hurt—-if he hadn’t suggested that they ignore him? But Richie only smiles and tilts his head a little.

“Mike’s right. I never said anything. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” he says softly. Stan closes his eyes and smiles, feeling his muscles relax and his arms embrace his friends tightly. From a few feet behind them, Maggie Tozier takes a picture, one that would be kept safe in Richie’s care for decades to come.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 26 years later

_ 26 years later _

Richie lifts his leg up closer to the fat of his stomach and Eddie tucks one of his soft, spidery, wide hands underneath the heavy fat of his large thigh. They’ve been comfortably cuddling in silence for about thirty minutes now, both looking down at their own phones and letting their bodies grow stiff in this position. There’s a crick in Eddie’s neck, but he wouldn’t give up holding Richie like this for anything, not even a million dollars or World Peace. He has twitter pulled up on his brick of an Iphone 11, and he’s scrolling aimlessly through his timeline while Richie is looking at his texts.

Under his breath, Richie huffs a small laugh and holds up the phone so that Eddie can see what’s on the screen from where he lies tightly packed against his husband’s back.

“Have a look at this. I was talking with my mom and she sent me this photo.” he tells Eddie, a smile carried in the soft tones of his unusually quiet voice. Eddie squinted up at the bright white glow of the screen until the picture became more obvious. “She found it in one of the boxes I didn’t unpack. You know, the stuff in the attic at my parent’s new house. It used to be in my room.”

“Huh.” he says plainly. 

“‘Xactly.” says Richie. He pulls himself apart from his husband’s embrace with reluctance just to heave himself around with a whole lot of huffing and puffing until he finally faces him. Then he reattaches himself, squishing up into his space and bringing the phone back up between them.

For Eddie...looking at this photo...it’s like every molecule that was floating around when the picture was taken is now encased inside this image forever, a coffin for a fleeting moment that came and went. The original feeling of love and relief that he felt the day it was taken still lingers and creeps forward from the deepest recesses of his untouched memories, but it’s accompanied by a twinge of sadness at the fact that this is just more evidence to say that time has passed. It makes him feel centuries older all of a sudden.

“D’you remember why we were hugging?” Eddie asks without letting his eyes stray from the picture. Richie glances up at him in confusion.

“Yeah? Why? Do you not?” 

Eddie shakes his head just a little. “No. Just the feeling. I only remember the feeling, for some reason.” he traces the curls on Richie’s little head in the photo with his eyes. The way his glasses were sliding up and off his face. How little Eddie had his eyes tightly shut. It's getting to him, getting in his head. His eyes squeeze shut in sympathy, like three decades old tears are finally ready to fall after all this time and he’s been holding them back for this moment specifically.

Eddie couldn't see it—what with his eyes being tightly closed and all— but the confusion and concern written all over Richie’s face melted into a tender, private smile when he realised that his boyfriend was holding back tears. His Eddie feels so much all the time...they’re alike in so many ways. He does feel it rather than see it when Richie leans forward and plants a wet kiss on his forehead, though. 

“I used to be so scared of going missing. Being forgotten. Getting ignored.” he murmurs into Eddie’s forehead. It makes his square chin bump Eddie’s thin, crooked nose as he speaks.

“You’re not...still scared of that though, right?” Eddie asks him tentatively.

That makes Richie laugh quietly, softer than anyone who didn’t know him as intimately as Eddie would think he was capable of. “Used to be, Eddie. Used to be.” he strokes Eddie’s brown curls with his free hand and its big, pale, and surprisingly soft for a middle-aged man. 

“It really happened though, didn’t it?” Richie murmurs into Eddie’s hair.

“What did?” 

“You forgot about me. I forgot about you. And Bev, and Mike...all of ‘em…my worst nightmare, come to life.” he sounds deep in thought. “I think about what Mike must have felt when he realised what was going on. Everytime I picture it I can only imagine being crushed by loneliness…” and it’s not a stretch for Eddie to believe that he feels that way. They’re a pretty exclusive bunch of friends, especially on their own, but Richie self isolates almost as hard as Eddie does and he feels the aftereffects much harder because he thrives off of human interaction, even if he avoids it with most people. Saves it for the ones he trusts.

Richie is all smiles and laughter, so it’s easy for people to think they’re good pals and then realize they’re in this friendship deeper than he is. He’s left a trail of sunken hearts and people scratching their heads, wondering how they misinterpreted all the signs before he pushed them away.

But not Eddie, no. Even though Eddie counts Richie as one of the wonderful mysteries of life, it’s safe to say he’s not completely opaque. He’s able to be seen by Eddie’s eyes all the way down to the bone, and once upon a time there was only one other person who could get that close to a man with so many walls up. That had to be someone with as many walls up as him.

There was always something bubbling under the surface between the three of them. Maybe things would’ve turned out the same if Stan was still alive, maybe Stan couldn’t be happy forever in a relationship with Eddie and Richie if they initiated it before he met Patty, maybe they would have always had some simmering tension between them for the rest of their lives without acting on it, there are a lot of maybes and almosts in the story and none of them came true. 

As it is, the remaining two see each other all the way through. On sweltering nights when Eddie sees his husband cry and be vulnerable, undone by sex and intimacy because he’s denied himself the privilege of losing his composure for so long, and he’s so full of love it just comes spilling out of his eyes and mouth.  _ IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. _

Or on bright mornings when Richie’s sleeping face is the first thing Eddie sees, and he gently strokes his black curls and wonders if Richie can hear his heart in his ears like he can. Richie pries open one eye and slyly smiles.  _ There’s no way he can’t feel it.  _ Eddie thinks to himself that there is no way Richie doesn’t know how he makes him want to throw out all his inhibitions for a cheeky, buck toothed smile.

“You guys were pretending you couldn’t see me.” Richie says into a sip of his coffee. It’s his substitute for the alcohol he gave up years ago. How often did he smother his loneliness with gin during that faithless time?

“Huh?” Eddie hasn’t been sitting in his head, so the comment was out of context for him. He looks up from his book to Richie with confusion in his bovine eyes.

“Sorry—the picture. You said you didn’t remember why we were hugging in the picture. It was because you guys pretended you couldn’t see me and it upset me so bad I ran home and everyone followed me to see if I was alright.” explains Richie.

“Oh...I’m sorry.” Eddie apologises, scooting closer to Richie so he can encircle an arm around his shoulders and against the back of the couch. The smile Richie gives him is thin.

“Pretty sure you said that when it happened, Edsie.” But that just earned him an unimpressed frown from Eddie’s small lips, which he pressed against his pale, stubbly cheek in an apologetic way. 

“And I’m still sorry about it.” Eddie would not relent. And he  _ is  _ sorry for ever making Richie feel ignored, so he captures his coffee-flavoured lips in a kiss and resolves to keep making his Love feel seen forevermore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there are mistakes, I don’t have a beta :(   
> Phew!! I can’t believe I did more than one chapter on a fic!! 
> 
> Come talk to me on Instagram at Scribblething and Tumblr at thatfreyja :)


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